


you gotta get that dirt off your shoulder

by hoars



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Argents - Freeform, Bitterness, F/M, Falling In Love, Falling Out of Love, Family, Forgiveness, Healing, Learning to Be Happy, M/M, Parents Dating, Pining, Tazelwurm, alpha pack, five senses, guilt complexes, respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:32:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Not everything is your fault." Stiles says seriously. "You blame yourself for everything. You feel guilty about everything and no one sees it. So they blame you some more because they don't want admit they are also to blame." Stiles' eyes are unwavering, and hurt to look directly into. "It's okay to be happy. To forgive yourself." </p>
<p>Derek doesn't believe him, at first. </p>
<p>He gets angry first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you gotta get that dirt off your shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Jay-Z's "Dirt Off Your Shoulder." Seriously, Dirt Off Your Shoulder/Bittersweet Symphony remix wrote this, so give it a listen. Along with another author's comments about Derek getting his life together should be the very first step to him falling in love. And a Dyson/Kenzi Lost Girl prompt that morphed. 
> 
> Despite what the story may say, I love Allison and Lydia. Really. I just really, really have a thing for hard, duty bound BAMFy women. Best thing I've ever heard to describe Allison is a saying, 'keep your heart cool.' No character bashing is intended at all. Ever. These two are just practically awesome and seen rather negatively by Derek.
> 
> Because I can't write happy without serious. This is Families: Eternally Messy's brother.

 

 

The first duty of love is to _listen_. -- Paul Tillich

 

There is a difference between born werewolves and bitten werewolves Derek has never understood.

Scott and Isaac speak of the wolf like it is a separate entity. An animal living in their minds snarling and whining to be unleashed. He doesn't understand it. He can't. His wolf -- he doesn't have a wolf. He is a wolf. It's like a bird trying to teach a fish to fly or a fish a bird to swim. They both can experience a tiny taste of the other's world but never understand.

Derek expressed his frustration at his and Scott's inability to connect. He couldn't teach Scott and Scott couldn't learn from him. The others don't really understand; however, until Jackson is sent away, having lost his mind.

"The human mind is so delicate." Peter says softly. "I've forgotten how much."

The Bite doesn't always kill because it's rejected.

But that’s a big part of it.

The Bite burns and twists and changes DNA. The stress is enough to disintegrate a heart or break down the body's cells. Like each one is being set on fire. The Bite can successfully change a human to a werewolf, but the mind --

The mind was born human and is suddenly introduced to this interloper.

This interloper with fangs and claws that will not be ignored. Humans have a talent for ignoring their inner monsters, like the ones that Kate and Gerard are. "The Wolf," Isaac explains. "He doesn't let me ignore him. He tells me when I'm doing something wrong, when I'm doing something right." He shrugs hesitantly. "He says we can't hurt family, that we have to stick with family and pack because they make us strong." Isaac huffs in embarrassment. "He told me not to leave when Erica and Boyd did. He helps me, sometimes. But he also tells me to hurt people who hurt me. Who've hurt you." He blushes in embarrassment.

The Bite made Jackson's body stronger and unraveled his mind.

It's a shame, a regret that pulls Derek down.

He meant the Bite as a gift. Being a werewolf is all he knows and he may be miserable some days, but he knows he's happy being what he is. He'd never ask to be human. Jackson, he asked to be like Derek. It terrifies Derek. In a way that makes him want to curl into himself and cut away from the pack to die. The lone wolf always and _should_ die.

He withdraws, remembers the girl, Lydia, and her screams and tears of accusation. She's right. He did it. Everything terrible to happen to Jackson, he did. There is no denying it.

He spends his days running.

Trying to be better.

"Tell me if something happens." He says awkwardly to Isaac. "If things start going wrong in your head."

"They won't." Isaac says confidently.

It's a worry that gnaws at Derek regardless. He keeps a closer eye on Scott and Isaac. Wary for any sudden changes. Peter scoffs at his paranoia. "Bad things happen." Peter says. "Bad things frequently happen to good people. That is the way of the world."

Derek doesn't believe in good and bad people. He believes in people. As simple as that.

He believes in people like Scott who are righteous because it's what is best for himself. Scott convinces himself being a good man, beyond reproach, will help him keep a hunter's heart. It's selfish. Not honorable. He believes in people like Allison who is duty bound and forged from vengeance. She's a creature like Derek. Just because she slays what she calls monsters doesn't make her a good person. It makes her a damaged one. There's people like Isaac. Derek knows all about people like Isaac. Isaac will stay with whoever saves him. Even now, Derek can see his loyalties swaying to Scott. The people like Peter and Kate, the psychos and murderers, are just as tied and knotted as Scott and Allison by their own brands of righteousness and duty with their foundations of redemption waiting for a moment to creep in.

They’re all simply people.

There's outliers, of course, who confuse everything Derek knows about people and the world.

A Danny that Scott and Lydia speak of in Jackson's absence that asked no questions and offered his support despite his lack of knowledge. He was simply there for Lydia and Jackson. He could be fueled by love for one or both of them. Derek doesn't know, but he doesn't want to believe this Danny could be a selfless, honest person.

There's Sheriff Stilinski and his patience. Derek isn't fool enough to believe the man kind. The interview conducted between the two taught Derek of a man who waited, restrained himself in order to catch his victim unawares. It's a good tact for sons, especially the man's own, but Derek hasn't been a son in a long time. The sheriff was spurred out of the only selfish desire Derek had any respect left for -- family. The man worked to keep his son safe, but also to avoid him. Derek spent days at the Stilinski house. It didn't take him long to understand the love between father and son was strong and enviable, but neither man wanted to be in each other's prolonged presence.

 Derek could understand that.

 Remembers being around Laura an seeing their mom smiling back in certain lights and laughing because of the sense of humor she inherited from their dad. Love motivated this Danny and Sheriff Stilinski, but the sheriff's son, Derek was unsure of.

People could be split because of their basic desires and influences. Stiles was more complex. Layers of possible motivations and all of them not fitting quite right. Did Stiles stick around because of guilt? Love for Scott? Fear for his father? Curiosity about the supernatural? It was a mystery and welcome distraction from the aftermath of Jackson losing his mind.

Derek wouldn't liken himself to a trailing puppy. There was the threat of the alpha pack at his door and he needs to know what Deaton knows to properly handle it. It's a coincidence that Stiles also needs knowledge from Deaton. Sometimes Derek shows up early, catching the end of the lessons. He watches Stiles, sweaty and shaky, clutch a book in his lap and ash in front of him. Other times, Stiles will stay for Derek's. Strangely quiet, face pale and a tremble in his bones.

The silence is a chasm that bothers Derek.

He's used to the group of kids he's been incepted by to be loud and passionate. Scott and his yelling. Stiles and his words. Isaac and his posturing. He doesn't know the rest as well, but he knows enough to know the sickness has spread to the others as well. Making them shells and distant. He considers telling their parents they aren't being emotional distant teenagers full of themselves, but people forced to be adults too fast with the stirring of PTSD.

_That they need help._

He blames Stiles' lethargic heartbeat and closed eyes, echoing Derek's own aches and weariness, for demanding, "Talk. About anything." Deaton has Derek building an immunity to wolfsbane. A theory Derek and Deaton are trying to prove, because the best protection against a werewolf no matter his or her strength is wolfsbane. It hurts. His body feels poisoned and he imagines this is what being sick feels like. He needs a distraction and there's Stiles, sitting with his back against the wall recovering from his own lesson.

"What?" Stiles asks.

He sounds startled, his heart skipping a beat, and his eyes fling open. Derek clenches his hand. The nausea is clawing at his throat and his head is fuzzy. He wants to inform the world at large his decision skills are impaired. Like a bad cold on top of a hangover with a pillow wrapped around his head.

"Talk." Derek repeats, hint of snarl -- 'don't make me say it again' -- flavoring his demand.

Stiles looks ready to argue, but sags further against the wall a tiny smile on his mouth. "My dad and Scott's mom both work fulltime. When we were twelve, they didn't trust us by ourselves at home. So they made us go down to the station or to the hospital to wait for them to get off shift. We got banned from the station when we crashed the computer system downloading games riddled with viruses. So we waited in the nurses' break room a lot." Stiles smiles fondly. "Usually we did homework or terrorized the staff, but I always finished first and had time to wait and Ms. McCall always had these books on the table. They were totally hers, her name was in them. But they were always about princesses and the rogue or thief or pirate or bastard son of a king." Stiles laughs, soft and Derek focuses on it to ignore his stomach and overheated skin. "I read them. I read a lot of them. And then _Scott_ read a lot of them. I knew they were fiction but Scott? He acted like that was the way of the world. That the good guy and his woman would live happily ever after. It was seriously worse than anything Disney could have inflicted on us."

Derek snorts but keeps focusing on Stiles' voice.

Stiles doesn't always stay to talk Derek through the pain.

They aren't friends. Not exactly. Maybe allies, comrades, shield brothers, brothers in arms... Stiles spent an entire session of Derek inhaling diluted wolfsbane trying to categorize them in increasingly oblique ways. There's a session where Deaton injected Derek with .5 ml of diluted wolfsbane essence. They put manacles around his wrists and feet to keep him still. Peter is there to hold him down if things get rough and Deaton is overseeing the entire experiment. Derek spends the night wishing to die, trapped with hallucinations and tiny purple flowers inside. He wishes, dazed and confused, he could hear Stiles talk about gold being salt's opposite in alchemy and how. Stiles’ voice is a comfort and too easy to use to retreat from the pain.

Deaton says nothing if Derek did ask for Stiles and Peter only looks at him thoughtfully.

The showdown with the alpha pack ends with Lydia and Allison at Derek's side with wolfsbane and Stiles holding a cup of mountain ash. His woods are riddled with these hurtful things: oil slicking trees and fallen leaves, the ash keeping the pack boxed in so Derek can dismantle them with his teeth and claws, Allison with her arrows and Lydia with her wolfsbane bombs.

The thrall of the wolfsbane and ash pulls at him, but he can ignore it until Kali and her ilk know better. He can feel the ash suppressing his strength and the flowers rooting in his lungs. The daze that accompanies the two finding him an hour and a half later. He blinks, the world slowing down to hurt longer, and crumbles.

"Go." He orders.

Allison turns heel to leave and pulls a curious Lydia with her. His welfare is never a priority of hers. He thinks Stiles goes with them -- people are selfish, have to be and staying behind doesn't correlate with what Derek knows -- and wonders about the ghosts that will haunt him because of the mixture, already hunchingtremblingbreaking in pain. When Stiles begins speaking.

"I've been meaning to ask you about zombies. If voodoo zombies should be something I worry about or just science gone wrong zombies. The CDC has a zombie apocalypse page, so I figured there was a possibility. Before junior year, I used to believe werewolves and reptiles monsters were unlikely but we all know how that went." Stiles says. He doesn't touch Derek, but then again he doesn't need to because Derek only needs his voice.

Derek is more grateful than Stiles knows that Stiles stayed in the middle of a battlefield, speaking until Derek could stand.

 

“I don't mind the sun sometimes, the images it shows. I can taste you on my lips and _smell_ you in my clothes.” -- Butthole Suffers

 

Scent is as important to Derek as voices are for others. The others are still figuring it out, how to read a room with a sharp inhale. Peter gets it. Upon entering a room, they both take a sharp breath, organizing emotions and possible physical triggers. It's automatic, done nearly subconsciously. _A reflex_.

The meeting place Scott picked smells like sex, condoms, loss and sadness. A look at Allison's bland face confirms his suspicions of this place once being their former love nest.

"What?" He demands.

Derek wants Scott in his pack. He wants to have someone resourceful and in control of himself at his back, but it doesn't mean he has to like Scott jerking him around. Darkly, he waits for the day Scott calls for him and he refuses. If Scott needs his help, then _he_ should be the one crawling.

"Where's Peter?" Scott asks. "I wanted to talk to him too."

Derek doesn't say anything but stares drolly. The comment is on his tongue, 'you expect a grown man to be at your beckon and call because?' when Stiles snorts. Derek tenses. He didn't forgot Stiles. The boy, Derek always forgets how easily he can read Derek's expressions, makes himself easy to over look. Especially with Allison in her leather and blade naked and the snarling from underneath Scott's skin. Those two were noisy and required all his attention least Allison takes his inattention as an invitation to stab him.

"I'm sure Peter's very busy." Stiles says dryly. "Like sabotaging another one of our parents' dates."

Derek carefully doesn't react to that news beyond a subtle sniff. Stiles and Scott smell fine. No hint of anger or resentment, only brief annoyance -- possibly because of Peter's interference -- and amusement from Stiles. Scott's mostly grossed out. Allison smells like nothing but impatience and irritation. So the bridges were still unmended on that front.

"Shut up." Scott whines. "I try not thinking about my mom dating." He wrinkles his nose. "I can _smell_ things _you_ can't. Be grateful." Under his breath and light, he adds. "That mother defiler."

"Touching," Allison says. "But we're here for a reason. What do you know about feline monsters?"

Scents are even better than faces. Derek meets Scott's eyes for a brief second, smelling the hurt the hunter caused him, and looks at her. "Rumors. Why?" He wants to sneer at her, ask why she doesn't consult her family's book of terrors but holds his tongue. She would leave him with no information, which he may need. He'll play nice to get what she knows.

Allison doesn't answer. She's already written him off. Unsurprisingly, Stiles does. Almost candidly with a side glance at Allison. "People keep reporting sightings of snake-cat." There's something there. Derek frowns and takes a deeper sniff, noticeable to Scott.

Stiles isn't friendly with Allison. Civil, yes. But definitely not on her side. Scott flinches and glares at Derek. Once, these two humans were strong enough to lend their strength to Scott and make him a beta. Now he stands as an omega. Derek wants to ask him again, 'join me,' but is tired of hearing no. Scott would or wouldn't come to him.

What's curious is Stiles' attitude.

If Derek breathed through his mouth, unable to scent him, he would assume Stiles was still friends with the hunter. His face was smiling and his body language friendly. He spoke to engage Allison as well as Scott. No noticeable difference from when the two lovers clung to each other. Just his scent. Stiles could fool people all he wanted verbally and physically, but the chemicals his body produce in correlation to his emotions couldn't be disguised.

He keeps that facet about Stiles bouncing in his head for weeks. It's enough to give him a headache. Peter and the others are looking for knowledge about this feline creature. Research isn't Derek's arena. Point in the direction of enemy with how to kill it and he would, but the preparing before the hunt bored him. Good things Stiles is no small of the research team.

He was the only one that would tell Derek anything without making Derek sign his soul over first.

"I think it's called a tazelwurm." Stiles admits hesitantly. "But there's not really a lot of information about them online."

"I'll tell Peter." Derek says.

Stiles' scent changes while Stiles doesn't. A combination of nerves and fear. It makes Derek envious, a tiny bit. Stiles was long past the days he feared _him_. Too many times Derek risked his life for Stiles for the human not to know Derek considered his life precious. That Peter inspired that fear in Stiles, however, wasn't acceptable. It should belong to Derek. As irrational as it was. A lesson Derek learned a long time ago, feelings didn't have to make sense. They just were.

He wants to ask what Peter had done though, to keep the fear alive in Stiles.

"Right. Flash us the Wolf-man signal if he finds anything." Stiles grins easily, not even a hiccup of his feelings touching his voice. Derek narrows his eyes because the kid expected him to do what? "You know, send Isaac with word." Stiles rolls his eyes. "No one understands me." His scent lighter, approaching a branch of happy Derek would call fond.

Derek can't help but keep a pin on the human's scent after that. Using the smell the get the feel of the situation and people. Stiles is like a compass. If Derek sides with Stiles' scent, usually the others agree. Because Stiles does make good and thoughtful decisions or because the other werewolves also scent Stiles and thinking of him a lynchpin, Derek isn’t sure. Stiles is the closest any of them have to a  concerned, neutral party.

Derek doesn't realize how dependant he's gotten on Stiles' scent until he's anxious in a room stuck with two Argents, Lydia, Peter, Isaac, Scott, Deaton, Melissa McCall and no Stiles.

He doesn't know how to handle all these lodestones of issues by himself.

It takes him by surprise.

His developing and deepening yearning.

 There was the first layer of Stiles' scent: blood (the science behind DNA making everyone's different from each other). The second layer unscented soap, lilac laundry detergent, minty mouthwash and medicine. The third layer his emotions. They all created the scent _Stiles_.

Pack could be rabid wolf-dog. Unstable by genetics and pushed to the edge by disease. It's easier to think he lost Erica and Boyd because of a disease rather than his own incompetence. (But that's the thing, no one has ever been quicker to blame Derek than himself. He can pretend it was other influences beyond his control, but _he_ knows the truth. He just wasn't good enough.) The more you learned your pack mates, your friends, the more you learned _about_ them. Derek has known Stiles for a year now. He can pick him out in a split second in the high school cafeteria.

"Wolf-man," Stiles' voice is surprised. "What are you doing here?"

The others know all about what Peter found out about the tazelwurm. Facts he's sure someone shared with Stiles, but it didn't mean Derek had any of _Stiles_ ' insight, or that Stiles knew Derek's opinions.

"The tazelwurm," Derek says. "Someone told you about it."

"Yeah. I know all about how it burrows in holes and the venomous clouds." Stiles says. "Scott told me." He frowns thoughtfully. "But I've been thinking about it. If this thing is part cat and part snake, it should share some of their attributes. Like being cold blooded, or the fact we can make an antivenom." He digs for a notebook, everything about him becoming excited.

Derek lets the human's enthusiasm draw him closer, until he's leaning over Stiles shoulder to read his notes, breathing in Stiles.

It becomes a comfort, Stiles' scent. He likes how it keeps him from thinking for a few seconds. Happy and peace because Stiles is safe and calm. They discuss battle strategies in case the tazelwurm is arboreal or terrestrial. If the creature was a constrictor or not. If it was sentient or animal like. Questions that couldn't be answered unless one of them encountered it or they discovered a firsthand account.

It creeps on him. Doesn't realize the true extent of his obsession with Stiles scent until he's sniffing and noticing the trace of Stiles' scent on others, even that bringing him a small measure of comfort.

It's pathetic, but Derek has spent years seizing what he can to care too much. He's a _werewolf_. It's akin to liking a voice, despite what Peter and his heartbeat say.

 

“Do you believe in love at first _sight_ , or do I have to walk past you again?”

 

The tazelwurm, when they find it, isn't intelligent. Not like the kanima or werewolves. It was a creature bent only on its survival. It keeps looking for warm, humid places to nest and keeps getting unearthed.

It was a dark scaled feline-serpent. Approximately three feet in length. It had two front paws with claws, two triangle ears on the top of its head and a cat head. It moved side to side as it used its tail to slither away. It had hissed at them when they followed the smell of musk and dead squirrel to a large old tire in a construction zone.

People are out in their gardens and doing repairs. The sightings fit now. A pattern Derek kicks himself for not seeing emerged. The two incidents involving the poison vapors were twice witnesses attested to the victim trying to kill the creature. Otherwise, it slithered/crawled quickly from the scene to hide again.

It was _shy_.

"Damn it." Peter swears, low and heartfelt as they watch it escape again. "It's _pregnant_." Curious how Peter made a biological imperative sound foul.

"It's not doing harm." Derek says.

"One isn't." Peter agrees. "But more? They could begin feasting on Beacon Hills if their number increases too dramatically, or worse they could reach a size where human is the only acceptable meal."

Residents in Beacon Hills were being harmed by the creature. Nothing like the damage the kanima had done but enough. He tries not to allow the tazelwurm under his skin. A supernatural creature better left to legend that had only wanted to be left alone to raise its family. It was difficult not to feel for the creature. How often had he wished for every hunter to drop dead when he was younger?

Derek and Peter investigate the other sightings Stiles texted him. Now that they have a scent, they can track it. They find its burrows. There is one covered in fur that causes Derek's eyebrows to inch up. "It sheds."

"It had scales." Peter says, uncomprehending. "We saw it. In the other holes we found scales and snake skin."

"Looks like it was here for most of winter, until the owner dislodged it." Derek says.

"Fascinating." Peter says.

Derek takes the news back to Stiles. He's bent over a math book, chewing on a pen cap. The pencil in his hand is tapping the desk. Tap, tap, stop and forget, tap, tap again. He crawls through the window and drops lightly on his feet.

"Oh thank God." Stiles says. "I needed a reason to close this."

Stiles slams the book shut with happy force. Derek watches as Stiles unearths the notebook he'd been compiling data about the tazelwurm from beneath history and English books. He spins in his chair to stare at Derek expectantly.

"Lay it on me."

Derek tells Stiles what he and Peter discovered. When he's finished, Stiles is thoughtful. "I don't think the tazelwurm can get bigger. Not if it decides when to be cold or warm blooded. It switches between a cat and a snake. And if it's pregnant? Reasons that it's mature." Stiles looks meaningful at Derek. "Which means it eats things smaller than it. Her. She eats prey that she can catch like squirrels and frogs. Maybe even yorkies and chihuahuas. It doesn't want to hurt humans. I know you have a strict policy of kill all interlopers, but she doesn't want to hurt people, Derek. She just wants to have her babies." Stiles turns pleading eyes to him. "I'm tired of killing everything. She's not evil. She's an _animal_."

When Derek was young, six or so, he asked his mom why other legends didn't exist. Why there wasn't vampires and mermaids and Bigfoot. She had laughed at first until she somberly explained about hunters. How humans drove many species to extinction. "Often times for the survival of the human species, but sometimes just out of fear of what _could_ happen." She had said.

At six, he had been lonely. He was a werewolf and so were some of his family, but that was it. They were all alone and they shouldn't exist. But they did. Six year old Derek had desperately wanted proof of something else like them in the world.

Now he had it.

"It could kill people." Derek says because he has to. Derek had a hand in making the kanima and every death as a result weighed heavily on him. If he let this creature be, he needed to be sure it wouldn't hunt humans.

"So do mountain lions." Stiles says stubbornly. "And bears. And _wolves_. They don't want to, but they do because humans are in the way. If we relocated the tazelwurm where it would rarely see humans..."

Derek sighs. He doesn't want to kill it and Stiles is listing every reason why he shouldn't. It wasn't a difficulty to give in to both their wants. "Okay. We won't kill it." _But someone better convince the Argents of that because they won't listen to me._

"Great!" Stiles exclaims and hastily clears his throat. "Then this mission is now official retrieve and relocate!"

Stiles shoulders loosen and he slumps with release. Derek resists the urge to smile or nod, but he is satisfied that he somehow managed to relax Stiles.

"I will put her down if she kills people." Derek warns."Just like they do when a mountain lion goes on a rampage."

"Lycan wouldn't do that." Stiles grins.

Derek would say something, but he can see Stiles waiting for it. He shakes his head instead. He's not going to be baited. Stiles pouts but let's him off the hook.

"You're no fun."

Proving to find the tazelwurm twice is more difficult. There's no more sightings in town and everyone but an irate Allison is ready to write the creature off.

Derek’s life goes back to normal.

He spends time at Deaton's improving his immunity to wolfsbane and testing mountain ash with plans to work an immunity against silver. He sees the others a little less. Isaac spending time with Scott and away from Derek. Peter is intent on driving Scott's mom into filing a restraining order (from the way Scott tells it, at least). For all that Peter claims Derek is acting young and immature, Derek would like to point out he isn't harassing the women of Beacon Hills like a one night stand from hell. Derek is _young_. Twenty-four and no direction besides finding a home that's more structurally sound. And less depressing.

"It's just a theory, but have you considered you'd be less sad if you lived somewhere more...welcoming?" Stiles asks. "Unless you feel the need to make your den somewhere dark and creepy?"

"Not many places want to rent to criminals." Derek says pointedly. "Even if they were innocent."

Stiles rubs the back of his head. "Okay, I feel somewhat responsible for that. How about I help you? People love me. Well, tolerate me. Same thing really."

If Derek's life was narrated by Stiles or Peter, this time would be called 'how Derek turned into a real boy.' Luckily, it wasn't. Mostly Derek thinks of this time as trying.

The apartments Stiles drags Derek to have a combination of men and women who a) look down on him b) are overly helpful and understanding of same sex relationships and c) overzealous flirts. Stiles spends his time divide between being hysterically amused and overprotective. Derek, on the other hand, learns an all new appreciation for Stiles.

The human knows how to navigate people and what to say. Derek will never admit it, ever, but he begins thinking of Stiles as a shield. Especially when Stiles decides on a place for Derek.

It's a small apartment complex that Derek doubts Stiles is supposed to even be near at the outskirts of town. If Derek was a reasonable adult, he would have qualms about letting Stiles near the place too, but Stiles is likely more threatening than anyone living there.

If Stiles is a shield, then Derek must be the sword.

A sword's purpose was to attack. To kill and threaten. It was a weapon of edges and meant for blood. Derek was those things. Edges clashing against each other, too many broken pieces for them all to align comfortably. Once, Derek may have been made for different things, love and happiness and peace, but now he is a product of death and pain.

Stiles kept things, _people_ , away from Derek. It spoke of an understanding of Derek that no one proved themselves capable of before. Stiles stood, shoulders and head high, chin tilted in defiance. And he encouraged forgiveness by being.

"Not everything is your fault." Stiles says seriously. "You blame yourself for everything. You feel guilty about everything and no one sees it. So they blame you some more because they don't want admit they are also to blame." Stiles' eyes are unwavering, and hurt to look directly into. "It's okay to be happy. To forgive yourself."

Derek doesn't believe him, at first.

He gets angry first.

Stiles is seventeen and can't possible understand everything Derek as done wrong. But the ensuing weeks of seeing Stiles smile and his eyes change Derek's mind. Stiles knows Derek's faults, never shies from throwing them in his face, but he also has a way of looking at Derek like it's okay. Like he's human and humans are allowed to make mistakes.

Even if Derek is a werewolf.

It's a little too late, Derek already smiles slightly at Stiles whenever he sees him, what being so intuned to Stiles' voice, scent and sight mean for Derek.

 

"I want to _hold_ your hand." -- The Beatles

 

Derek has only been in love with one other person.

Falling in love with Kate had been quick. The fall left sixteen year old Derek bruised and breathless. Kate had been everything. Derek had been thinking of asking her to be his mate. To be his one and only forever. A wolf can only give his heart completely once and he'd been on the cusp of it when Kate revealed her colors.

Sometimes he misses Kate's laugh. The gleam of mischief in her brown eyes. How she'd tell him about the places she'd seen and people she'd meet. The way she kissed and loved him back. In her own way. She had been adventurous. Something Derek desperately wanted to be back then.

Falling in love with Stiles had been so different.

Slow.

So slow, Derek couldn't imagine removing Stiles from his life or distancing himself. It'd be impossible. Derek relied on Stiles far too much. Counted on the human to be all these things for Derek. A compass, a shield, forgiveness.

Derek was afraid. Terrified. Because the piece of himself Derek had verged on giving to Kate, that he had thought about relentlessly for days, he gave to Stiles without meaning to.

He knew it the same way he knew he was a werewolf, the sun rose in the east and set in the west and fire was hot, there was no one else for Derek Hale.

" _Oh_." It was inconvenient, but at the same time relieving. Derek knew Stiles wouldn't set his world ablaze and take away everything he cared about. Stiles was a known variable. Stiles was _safe_.

It made Derek relax a little. He'd proven bad at picking who to love before but now that the choice was already made and forever out of his hands, he didn't have to worry about it again. He could focus on things like finding the tazelwurm and keeping his home safe.

"We should consider where we'll put this creature." Peter says. "What to do if it decides inbreeding or interbreeding is wise."

"Keeping just the one isn't good enough?" Scott asks Stiles, anxious.

"How about I get Dr. Deaton to put three of you down and fix the last." Stiles snips. "Beacon Hills only needs one werewolf."

"You have to be practical." Lydia says. "You're bringing an old species back from the brink of extinction. The ecosystem alone will be changed have you thought about what will happen in fifty years?"

Stiles smells like hurt and anger, always does around Lydia. He's able to hide it in the logical tones of his voice and dry humor. It's his scent and body language Derek pays so much attention to that convince Derek Stiles is hurting. He puts a, hopefully, comforting hand on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles looks at him in surprise.

"Talk." Derek demands. _Do what you do best and talk. They'll listen. They always listen to you, eventually._

"Then we worry about it fifty years." Stiles retorts. "We need more information about their lifespan. How they breed. How frequently they hunt. A big meal can last a snake months. We don't have to finish wiping out a species because we're afraid of what _might_ happen."

"Isn't he a crusader for lost causes?" Peter says, werewolf soft.

Derek wants to say, _yes. Of course he is. Why else do you think he's here? Always on our side? Because he likes fighting with his dad and former flame? He's here for us because no one else cares what happens to a bunch of werewolves. No one else would care._

"Shut up." Scott says for the both of them. "If you think we can do it and do it right," Scott says fiercely. "Then I think we should."

The muscles under Derek's hand shift. He can smell Stiles' relief and surprise. Hear it in his shuddering breathe.

"Absolutely not." Allison scoffs. "You guys might want to take chances with human lives, but I'm not willing to take that risk. _It dies_."

"It's safer." Lydia agrees. "I'm sorry, but it is. Beacon Hills doesn't deserve to have any more monsters unleashed on it."

The human under his hand shudders. He smells like sadness and anger and there's a hitch in his throat. Derek itches to growl and snarl both girls into submission. But Stiles' body tells him no. Restrains his temper.

"Preemptive strikes are only ethical against Nazis." Stiles bites.

"Did you ever ask yourself why they're almost extinct?" Allison sneers.

"You ever wonder why in history there's only two accounts of the tazelwurm?" Stiles says viciously. Allison and Lydia reel in surprise. "Because it doesn't want to interact with people! It's people-- _hunters_ like you and your family that give it no choice."

"It sounds to me," Peter interrupts the red faced humans. "If the tazelwurm ends up in Hale territory, it's not up to you." He smiles at Derek. "That decision would be left to our alpha."

"We aren't killing Lycan." Derek says. "We'll find it and keep an eye on her. I've talked to Deaton. We'll put a chip in her to keep track of her."

" _Lycan_?" Allison recoils.

"I know how you and your family have a predisposition towards killing everything werewolf, but try and restrain yourself." Stiles says.

There's a story between Allison and Stiles. Something deeper than Allison breaking Scott's heart and Lydia breaking Stiles'. It makes Derek want to draw Stiles close and tell him, _everything will be okay._ But Derek tries not to be a liar. He steps closer, lending his strength to Stiles' and let's Allison see, he's the sword.

"Hale territory, _Argent_." Derek says. "Take it, or leave."

Scott smells sharp with nerves and anxiety. Derek can't imagine how he must feel with his pack destroying itself, unable to do anything to stop it. He can hear Allison grind her teeth and the scrap of Lydia's nails.

" _Fine_." Allison snaps. "Don't come crawling to me when it blows up in your faces."

She gathers her things. Nearly vibrating with her rage. Lydia follows her, looking over shoulder with a calculating gleam akin to Peter's.

"That was scary." Isaac breathes when they can all hear the car drive away.

"Yeah. It was." Scott agrees. "Want to explain what that was all about?"

"No." Stiles smirks slight, his heart beating steady. "I'm out of here."

Derek releases Stiles and watches him walk away.

There's a tingle in his hand, traveling up his arm.

Stiles changes his lessons with Deaton. They aren't studying powders and flowers anymore, or how to expand his will and belief. Stiles is studying actual spells. From a book that makes Morrell smirk at Deaton every time Stiles delves into it.

The silver burns his skin. It doesn't matter what they try. If Derek presses the chain against his skin, it burns. He still tries. Maybe dull the pain. He was able to master the threat wolfsbane and mountain ash have over him -- the pain latter a small price to pay.

Derek sits, exhausted, next to a studious Stiles. He does what he always has since the beginning of these experiments. He focuses on Stiles. The sound of Stiles chewing the end of his hoodie, unmoving but his mouth and chest and scent ultimately content. The dull of the pain from the silver is easy to push away when he begins arguing with himself. He would very much like to lean into Stiles' space.

Brush their shoulders.

Stiles didn't shake his hand off when they met with the others to discuss the tazelwurm. Then again, he had no reason to think Stiles wouldn't brush him off. Stiles may be a safe, _good_ , choice to love, but it doesn't mean Stiles necessarily has to love him back. Derek was good with living in misery. Being only friends or allies with the object of his apparent affection is better than Derek ever honestly expected.

He carefully maintains the distance between them; Stiles none the wiser.

Derek and Peter sent to catch the tazelwurm after another sighting is reported to Deaton the vet. The creature decided behind the motel was an excellent place to give birth. Upon heaving himself into the tree, Derek notices the three kitten type offspring the tazelwurm had. "It was a live birth." Derek calls to Peter.

"Ah." Peter says pleased. "The tazelwurm is ovoviviparous then."

"The bag." Derek demands.

The tazelwurm glares at Derek, a hiss starting. Derek wrinkles his nose. The air around the tazelwurm was turning foul with the poison vapors.

"Quicker." Derek says, not taking his eyes off the displeased mother. This close he could see her wicked claws -- most likely tipped with poison -- and her white pointy fangs. If she had fur, it'd all be standing up.

The bag hits his hand and Derek moves quickly to put the mother in the bag, handing it down to Peter. He wasn't quick enough to avoid her claws or the vapor from burning his lungs. He coughs. "And another bag would be great."

They use Derek's jacket to bundle the mewling babies in the end. Peter swearing he'd pay for the dry cleaning. Their eyes weren't open yet and were kind of cute. They were a mix of scales and fur unlike their mother and soft black and grey.

"Not how I imagined becoming a great uncle." Peter smirks over the sounds of Lycan's howls and thrashing. The burlap bag they used dampening in spots from poison.

"That was never likely." Derek says.

"No, I'd imagine not." Peter says. "Stiles as surprising as he can be is definitely male."

Derek narrows his eyes at Peter. "What."

"Love has a distinct scent. A combination of misery and happiness quite unlike any other." Peter swings the bag carelessly. Lycan hissing and thrashing doubling.

"Hurry up." Derek says. There was list of things he didn't want to discuss with Peter. Love was at the top. "We have to get Lycan to Deaton before she rips the bag open."

"Fine. Ignore me." Peter sniffs. "But as highly as you think of Stiles, he still is awkward and innocent. You'll never know what he is capable of unless _you_ make a move."

"Melissa... Such a gorgeous woman. She has such a good heart and charming sense of humor." Peter continues. "But her ex husband left his mark on her. You should have seen her blush and stutter when I asked her out to dinner." Peter chuckles.

"Strangely, the men and women we are drawn to don't think they are good enough for us. When it is quite the opposite." Peter gives him a knowing look. "It's the Hale curse." Peter sighs dramatically.

They're nearly to Deaton's office when Derek breaks the silence. "Isn't she with the sheriff?"

"Yes." Peter says. "But it doesn't stop me from being attracted to her. Or her me." Peter smiles slyly. "And John Stilinski has his charm."

"Stop." Derek says before Peter can say anymore. "Forget I asked."

Peter snickers. "You should ask yourself Derek, won't what you do to be with someone you've given your absolute love to? I'm forty-one. Sharing a mate with another lover is the least I would do for a piece of her heart."

"I am not telling Scott. Or Stiles." Derek tells Peter flatly. "They want to kill you again, I won't stop them."

"Duly noted." Peter smirks, getting out of the car. "I'll take this conversation as your blessing."

Deaton, when Peter drops the sack on his examine table and Derek sets the kittens down, breathes deeply and lets it go in a sigh. "Is there a reason why you didn't sedate the tazelwurm?"

Derek glares suspiciously at Peter. "I wasn't aware tranquilizers were at our disposal."

"He was having so much fun, I didn't have the heart to tell him." Peter grins faux innocently.

"I am going to put the chips in." Deaton says, glaring at Peter. "And you're going leave. And not come back."

Derek leans against a wall to watch. Peter opting to hover around Deaton as he injected Lycan and began setting his station up. His uncle liked annoying the vet for reasons Derek didn't have the will to care about yet. He had his own fucked up life to straighten out without complicating the job with Peter.

Deaton moves precisely and quickly. Barely revealing his irritation with Peter beyond terse demands to move.

"Scott said the Hale house is clear." Deaton says when he finishes. "They’ll be happy there."

"That's what we hope." Peter says.

Only Stiles, Scott and Isaac show up for Derek and Peter releasing the tazelwurms. A mercy Derek is grateful for. Allison and Lydia had made their opinions known. They didn't need this happyish occasion disrupted. The boys were pretending not to coo at the kittens and Peter was opening the sack with Lycan.

Lazy with contentment, Derek listens to boys argue about names for the kittens. He doesn't know why they bother with arguing against Stiles. Even if Isaac and Scott gang up on him, Stiles had persistence. They may leave the house calling the kittens Roland, Lilith and Mordecai, but in two weeks they'd be calling them Sköll, Hati and Fenrir.

"Time to go kids." Peter cajoles. "Lycan will be waking up soon and I do not want to be around. Her teeth are sharp"

Derek goes by the property sometimes.

He's been practicing his wolf form. It's not as monstrous as the form Peter managed. He resembles a wolf. But not that dainty one Laura could turn into. He's bigger and broader. He's black too. Not the mix of colors found in wild animals, but the black fur that only came from wolf-dog hybrids.

The tazelwurms don't mind him as a wolf. They race up trees and wooden beams when they sense him coming and watch him with slit pupils that glow green, but as he comes by and doesn't try to eat them, they ignore him. Like they ignore the occasional hiker, deer and mountain lion Derek has seen go by the house.

Lycan never grew any larger than her three feet. A relief to all involved. She also ignored or hid from all animals bigger than she. Her favorite prey were young rabbits, birds and squirrels.

The wolf form is difficult for him for multiple reasons. He can't always force the shift. It was easier nights of the full moon but never a guarantee. When he can manage the shift, it's always a surprise how long it lasted. Ten minutes to two weeks. He couldn't always become human on demand either.

He was studying the resources Deaton had and applying Peter's advice, but he still struggled with it.

Being a wolf was too...honest.

He felt peeled back to the core. Like he was Derek without human trappings. He didn't worry about Isaac or Scott. They were old enough and experienced in caring for themselves. Peter was pack, therefore trusted. Stiles was safe and cared about him. Derek was happy. He was uncomplicated. When he changed back, he always had to face his parts that he shoved down during the day.

Maybe this what Scott and Isaac meant when they said the wolf was separate.

Derek shifted today with the intention of stretching his legs. It wasn't his fault he got stuck. He tramples through the woods hoping he'll change back spontaneously. It doesn't happen. He whines. Walks from the preserve edge and away, anxious and ashamed. The last time he got stuck -- those two weeks -- Isaac had caused a panic with the trouble twins. Scott had been convinced Derek abandoned them while Stiles was sure Peter had him in a shallow grave somewhere.

Peter had been such a bitch after that.

He trots to the Stilinski house. Every since John Stilinski and Melissa McCall started dating, the boys centralized on the house. Knowing Peter, he was hiding in the bushes. Everyone would be there.

As a wolf, the idea pleased him. He could feel his tag wag. Embarrassment would wait for him to be human shaped again.

Derek could run in the woods for some time before finding the border between the preserve and Stilinski home. The door is easy to open and shoulder through. He could hear voices in the living room and made his way there after hearing Stiles.

As far he can tell the Stilinskis, McCalls and Isaac were playing a board game. Slinking, his tail still wagging side to side, Derek pretends no one was staring at him. He laid next to Stiles, shoving his head in Stiles’ lap.

"There is a giant wolf in my house." Sheriff Stilinski says.

"Dererk, are you stuck?" Isaac asks.

Derek pointedly closes his eyes and burrows close to Stiles. He's warm, smells good and Derek loves him. He's tolerable. The others? Aren’t.

"That's Derek?" Sheriff Stilinski exclaims.

"Just ignore it." Stiles advises. "Scott, pay up. You landed on my hotel."

"I hate Monopoly." Scott pouts.

"Derek--"

"Leave him." Scott continues pouting. "We'll take him to Deaton's if he's still like that after the game."

"John, your roll." Melissa says, already following Stiles' and Scott's lead.

Derek melts into Stiles lap, enjoying the restless fingers playing with his fur. Stiles was good at this touching stuff. Derek wouldn't mind sleeping a day or two like this.

Why had he been denying himself these hands?

 

“How sweet I roamed from field to field, and _tasted_ all the summer's pride.” -- William Blake

 

Derek is glancing between the different types of bread. Why there has to be so many brands and grains confuses him, especially when _Peter_ was the one who wanted it. Annoyed, he grabs the cheapest loaf off the shelf to place in the grocery cart. _Where is_ _Peter?_ He was here because Peter nagged him into being here, and maybe because Peter promised not to leave him alone. Derek wasn't shy, but he was painfully awkward. The criminal charges brought against him didn't help any.

He just didn't like people.

People were confusing and hurt to wrap his head around.

Subtly looking around the store, Derek searched for his uncle. Mrs. Rinehart quickens her step and doesn't look at him when she passes him. Mr. Banner, so old he shuffles, glares at Derek. Derek sighs and strains his ears harder for the sound of Peter.

Derek breathes a little easier when he sees him, but hangs back. Peter is in the middle of the produce section, speaking to a woman Derek can identify by scent. _Melissa McCall._ The two are speaking quietly enough their voices are like white noise. Peter smiles, charming and chest heaving with a laugh. Melissa is smiling at the ground, tucking hair behind her ear. They're interesting to watch. When Peter speaks, Melissa turns shy and bashful. Derek was used to Scott's mom being as snarky, pig headed and tough. Much like Scott. He didn't know Melissa knew how to blush.

He recalls Peter words from weeks ago. _Insecure_. Could a human woman that stared down an alpha to protect her son really be insecure? The evidence seemed to support it.

_Then does Peter have a point about Stiles?_

Peter rejoins him; happiness and misery clinging to his scent. "What?"

"Nothing." Derek shakes his head. "Wait. What does the sheriff think?"

"Melissa and I are just friends." Peter says, still smiling. "Nothing for him to worry about. For now."

It should worry him, and it did. Scott and Stiles were going to freak out. Right as they managed a tenuous peace between them. But otherwise it made him think. _Stiles_.

Could it be possible? Derek hesitated to use Peter as a dating role model but his only other experiences were Kate and the temporary boyfriends Laura found at military base bars. Long term and stable relationships weren't familiar to him beyond his parents own.

His parents had loved each other and made each other smile, but there had always been something missing. Like the passion, in love feelings were strangled by gratefulness and duty. His mom had been human and brutally attacked by a werewolf. His father finding her and teaching her to survive as a werewolf.

Derek didn't want that. He wanted an equal partnership. He wanted Stiles to stay with him because he wanted to. Not because Stiles felt he had no choice. He wanted an equal.

Someone who wanted to be with Derek to because of Derek. Not out of an obligation or sense of self-preservation.

He covertly tries to observe Stiles to see if Peter could be right. He must miss the mark because everyone but Stiles gives him odd looks.

Lydia when she expresses a desire to start dating a new student, and Stiles learns about it, gives Derek this calculating stare while she tries ignoring Stiles' hurt eyes and bittering scent.

This girl was someone Derek could hate as much as he could respect. She didn't lead Stiles on. She told him flat out she didn't feel that way about him. Her stark honesty was refreshing. But she didn't care about who the truth hurt. She didn't care that she was pushing someone who used to care about her so much he stood between Derek and her death to hating her.

(“You know how it’s real love? When you break up and you hate each other’s guts. You can’t fucking stand each other.” Laura said once, after her Army boyfriend broke up with her. “I liked Daniel. A lot. And I hope we can still be friends.” She shrugged. “That’s how I know I don’t really love him.”)

It was Lydia, Derek was learning, that made Stiles insecure. Made his self worth in his eyes so low.

Scott catches him the most frequently. Scott and Stiles usually around each other, it was inevitable. But Scott's brain works from a different place than everyone else's, and he's decided from the contextual clues that Derek wants Stiles _as a werewolf_.

"He wants to be human." Scott says. "He _likes_ being human. So don't ask him."

Derek doesn't know how to tell Scott he doesn't want his best friend as a werewolf but as a _lover_. He can barely articulate the desire to himself. He was not spitting it out for Scott to ridicule. So he grunts and continues Stiles watching.

It’s almost like he has a hobby.

Melissa when she catches him, honest to god, laughs. Her laughter is hinged with hysteria and she keeps muttering, " _Hales_." But Stiles privately admits to Derek it was better than when she was repeating " _Werewolves_ ," between shot glasses.

"Why is she saying Hales anyways?"

"I don't know." Derek lies. "Why don't you ask Peter."

Peter fends off Stiles probing questions with amused grace. Derek is thankful just this once Peter prefers mindfucking Stiles more than making Derek miserable. He'll make it up to Stiles somehow.

Sheriff Stilinski raises an eyebrow when he sees the Derek as subtle as a brick to the face watching Stiles mess with Scott in the kitchen.  

"You're lucky your uncle warned me first." Sheriff Stilinski says. "Or we'd be having a very different conversation right now."

Peter? What could Peter have said to Stiles' dad? What did he say? Why? Wary, Derek eyes Sheriff Stilinski. He’s sort of expecting Sheriff Stilinski to pull out his gun.

"Why have you been speaking to Peter?" Derek asks.

"He's a friend of Melissa's." Sheriff Stilinski says. "And the only adult besides Melissa and Chris to know what's going on."

"Right." Derek says, still deeply suspicious of Peter's motives.

Peter _wouldn't_.

Would he?

Trying to banish thoughts of Sheriff Stilinski, Melissa McCall and Peter cuddled together smiling sickeningly at each other from his mind, Derek nearly doesn't catch Sheriff Stilinski giving his blessing. Somewhat grudgingly.

"He can't exactly date other kids his age. He needs to be able to talk about all this werewolf stuff. And Scott is still in love with Allison. Melissa is positive Isaac is in love with Scott. Lydia... Is not healthy for him." Sheriff Stilinski says. "You're okay. I suppose. As long as we are both aware the age of consent in California is eighteen and not seventeen like in New York."

Scott is tackling Stiles on to the floor to dump cake batter meant for a Mother's Day cake over Stiles' head. Stiles shrieking like a girl and vainly trying to fight Scott off.

"I knew I should have cut my hair again!" He wails.

"He'd be good for you." Sheriff Stilinski continues softly, with a smile. "And everyone thinks you might be good for him."

"Thank you." Derek says, words heavy in his mouth.

"Don't thank me yet." Sheriff Stilinski says cheerfully. "I will be the first to shoot you if you hurt him. And since you'll heal, I'll just keep doing it until you learn your lesson."

Isaac when he notices the feelings floating down the alpha bond is, in Stiles' words, "A shy bundle of kitten fluff."

"It's a little weird." Isaac admits to Derek. "Because he's my classmate and you're my alpha. It'd be like my dad dating my classmate. Or my favorite teacher. You know."

"I know." Derek says. And he does know how weird the situation is. He's thought of nothing else but how fucking weird it was he was in love with a seventeen year old.

_Derek is twenty-four._

Reasonably, men his age are getting married to women their age to start families. Or focusing on their careers and getting ahead.

Derek is in Beacon Hills trying to avoid death by hunters and werewolves and other supernatural monsters that didn't have the decency to be mythical. He has the insurance money (life insurance a must for every werewolf family because of above threats) and the money his family had left to him and Laura. His only family is a possible psychopath and polygamist uncle that came back from the dead. He's constantly surrounded by teenagers.

Derek can't even remember he spoke to someone in his age bracket.

Derek's at weird place in his life, even when ignoring the being in love with a seventeen year old bit.

"But it's good too." Isaac continues. "Like you won't just pick up and leave. He's keeping you here. And Scott spends time with me when you're around Stiles and, um. That’s good." Isaac says, blushing slightly. "You're happier, so the pack is happier. It's good. Very. Um."

"Feelings suck. Don't they?" Peter asks, mocks from upstairs.

"Yes." Derek says to all of it.

It was weird, good and feelings did suck.

But Peter still didn’t have to be such a dick.

He nods at Isaac and gruffly says, "Thanks." Aware of Peter laughing upstairs. "I'm going to talk to Peter now."

Isaac smirks. "Make sure it hurts. I'm going to hang out with Scott!"

"Now, Derek, use your words. Not your fists." Peter snickers as Derek jumps up the stairs.

"I'll use plenty of words." Derek says, darkly. _Not all of them polite_.

Stiles doesn't notice the odd looks. Or if he does, he doesn't think there's anything odd about them. He still acts the same around Derek. The bitterness that has been clinging to him fading like a sour cologne after a few hours with Derek.

Derek is not Peter. He does not know how to make someone shy or insecure feel at ease. Derek doesn't know how to _flirt_. Kate had pursued him. The others since then have been casual and at times as blunt as, "Let's fuck."

He's not sure how anyone can be sure Derek and Stiles will work together if Derek can't do anything to show Stiles how he wants and that, no, he's not fucking with him.

It's the constant panic and frustration that does it.

He’s tired of his stomach knotting up under everyone's knowing eyes (and Scott's accusing ones). He's going to get this over with and if Stiles doesn't feel the same, isn't attracted to Derek at all or rejects him, Derek will not wilt like some sort of flower. He'll be awkward and rejected as hell for a few weeks, and then he'll _woo_ Stiles into loving him or borrow a tact from Peter and mindfuck him into it. If that fails, then he'll leave Stiles alone and become a surly drunk.

Now he just has to corner Stiles alone and make a sentence that's coherent enough Stiles understands what's going on.

Derek was planning on Stiles' bedroom when he was alone, or maybe when Stiles came to check on Lycan and her brood, or even after one of Deaton's lessons. He was not expecting the words to climb out of his mouth like a six month missing spelunker while going to Scott's rescue.

"Go out with me." Derek is stuck between hitting his head against the nearest house and thanking god he didn't say, "I'm stupidly in love with you. Love me back."

"What? Where?" Stiles says bewildered. "We're already going to Allison's to break Scott out of the creepy Argent torture chamber. Did you develop situational amnesia?"

Derek's spelunking words deserved that. They were already outside Argent's house, and they were going to break in to kidnap Scott back. Derek had come out of nowhere. But it was already out there. Might as well keep at it until Stiles understands his intent or he’s mercifully put out of his misery.

"After this." Derek says.

"Like a victory celebration?" Stiles whispers.

Allison wouldn't torture and kill Scott, but the hunters visiting the Argents would. The Argents were name droppers in their world. They froze werewolves up, and hunters always had an awed story to share about them. Allison and Chris couldn't afford to lose their reputation in the wake of Kate, Victoria and Gerard. They had to follow the visiting hunters' lead to maintain the appearances that let Derek and his pack remain unmolested by the hunter community at large.

Allison could be difficult, but Derek preffered a known threat over an unknown.

"No. Yes." Derek growls.

"I'm confused then!" Stiles whispers back. "Like a date? Hanging out? To keep each other company? To consort and do more illegal things?"

"The first one." Derek says.

Why was this so hard?

"Quiet!" Derek hisses and clamps a hand across Stiles' mouth.

Sheriff Stilinski, Peter and Stiles made this particular plan when Stiles received a panicked text message from Scott followed by a pancking Isaac telling them what happened.

Scott had been mooning too close to the Argent place. Simple as that.

It was decided Sheriff Stilinski would go knocking, inquiring after his girlfriend's son with _Deputy_ Peter Hale while Stiles and Derek break Scott out.

Above them, Derek could hear Sheriff Stilinski speaking with Chris and a woman before inviting himself inside. Hopefully, the hunters would be too worried about having law enforcement so close and the guard on Scott would be minimal.

Derek lets Stiles go when the door closes.

Stiles is watching him with wide, stunned eyes. Derek raises an eyebrow because limited time. "We are finishing this conversation later." Stiles grumbles. He grabs Derek by the arm and leads him to the basement door Allison told Scott about before the very first break up months ago.

There's two people guarding a gagged Scott, dangling from chains. A bear of a hunter Derek immediately takes out, and Allison.

Stiles is wrenching the cattle prod from her hands and receives a kick/punch combo that lands him on his ass, wheezing for his efforts. But it was a long enough distraction for Derek to maneuver behind her and bring the butt of the first hunter's gun against her head.

Scott makes a pained roar at seeing her fall, but Derek is reassured by her continuing heartbeat.

"Shut up." Stiles hisses to Scott. "It has to look legit or this place will be crawling with hunters. Do you want them to hurt her for harboring werewolves?" Scott shakes his head silences. " _Good_. Now, quiet. We're sneaky ninja wolves."

They get Scott to Isaac, Melissa and her waiting car with minimal difficulty. Scott's muscles clenched from electric torture, making him unsteady on his feet.

" _Scott_." Isaac says sadly.

"It's worse than it looks." Scott lies for his mom.

Melissa's face is a mask of rage, and no one assumes she believes her son.

"Don't ever fuck with a mother." Derek remembers Melissa telling one of the alpha werewolf.

He wonders what she's going to do to the hunters with a little bit of glee. She'd smashed the alpha's head in with a bat.

Melissa drives away, leaving Stiles and Derek alone to make their way to the Jeep hidden amongst a bunch of other cars due to an underage party two blocks over.

"So. Out, huh?" Stiles asks. "We could go to that all night dinner."

"Okay." Derek answers feeling optimistic about avoid a snare of embarrassment and feelings. Stiles seems to have understood his meaning. Maybe.

"One thing first." Stiles says sternly, stopping in the road.

"What?"

"You have to kiss me first." Stiles says, his heart rabbiting away. "Just so we both aren't wasting our time here."

Soon, Derek will explain how that's impossible. Being with Stiles will never be a waste of time to him, but he can understand Stiles' request when he remembers pretty Lydia and how long everyone claims Stiles had loved her. With Stiles, Derek could never waste his time. But Stiles could be wasting it with Derek.

Instead he does as requested, tugging Stiles' closer to properly kiss him. There's the shy touch all new kisses have that gives to Derek's experience and Stiles' curiosity. It's-- like, something, maybe new and senseless, no, Derek isn't making sense because this kissing thing with Stiles is – wonder and hot and slick and --

It's trouble.

That's what it is.

It's so much trouble, Derek thinks, pressing closer to Stiles. _I’m in so much trouble_. Stiles is going to ruin his life forever and he won't care. Derek will probably die happy if Stiles does make it his life goal to mess Derek up. Stiles is holding Derek's shoulders, trying to him closer like Derek hasn't lost his mind already and will try pulling away. Not possible. He’s getting exactly what he wants in Stiles’ mouth moving against his. Derek is trying to mind his strength, but he still thinks he's leaving bruises on Stiles' hips. He tries loosening his grip, but Stiles makes a noise of protest and licks into Derek's mouth.

Stiles tastes--

Tastes like Derek is never letting go of him.

Ever.

Stiles pulls back and leans his forehead against Derek's, panting slightly. His eyes are watching Derek like they always do. But now someone, _Stiles_ , has handed Derek a key and he can see the affection and happiness, tinged now with wonder.

"I'm in so much trouble." Derek mumbles and leans for another kiss in the middle of the street, Stiles laughing, chasing after his taste.


End file.
